


Come Out And Confront (Re-Edit)

by Morrigan_RedBlack



Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morrigan_RedBlack/pseuds/Morrigan_RedBlack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was one of the unusual days where Hunter finds himself running from reason; only to be trapped by it, literally between a door and a hard place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Out And Confront (Re-Edit)

**Author's Note:**

> A friend of mine read this story and pointed out to me that I should try to re-write the story and push certain scenes a bit further, to which I did.
> 
> Basically, I had slowed down the flow of the plot, which originally had an awkward pace.

**_ Come Out And Confront _ **

**__ **

**Disclaimer: This is a _purely fictional work._ I do not own anything. All characters used belong to themselves and WWE.**

**Warning: Explicit language, implied m/m relations and slash.**

**Summary: It was one of the unusual days where Hunter finds himself running from reason; only to be trapped by it, literally between a door and a hard place.**

**Pairing:  HHH/Undertaker, mentions of Stephanie McMahon and Jeff Hardy.**

* * *

 

Hunter always loved Fridays.

 

That was _his_ day; where he can relax and spend quality time with himself. He would wake up late, have a plate of unhealthy brunch, go to the gym and hog it for the next 4 hours and then come back to his room and watch some movies or read some books.

 

The long and short of it is that he can be a normal, everyday guy on that exclusive day. Not an established TV personality who has to run and fly all over the place to do shows. Not a wrestler who has millions adoring him, and the many more hating him. Not doing commercials to promote merchandise and stuff like that.

 

He can be just Hunter instead of Triple H or _at least_ pretend to be as such, for one day.

 

Friday.

 

But today, which happened to be a Friday, is not the usual day. He is not doing his usual routine of food, gym and _laissez faire_ today.

 

He found himself skimming the halls as quietly as possible in the arena; down the fluorescent lit corridors towards the south end, where his locker room is located. He’s to be ready to do his segment in Smackdown, for the very first time in years. In anticipation of that, he was anxious to avoid running into to someone he had not wanted to see for years. That person is the sole reason why he hated working on Fridays, which also quite explained the scowl on his handsome features as he walked, steady steps and mid pace belying the anxiety that’s currently trying to pull Hunter into a mist of paranoia.

 

Maybe begging Stephanie to put him back on Raw was not such a bad idea.

* * *

 

                                                                                                                                                           

On Monday morning, just a couple hours before the show starts, Hunter received a text from Stephanie who wanted to meet him; Hunter did not dwell on it too much as he assumed that perhaps it was just a general meeting about the show or business. They had been best friends from the time they worked together during the McMahon-Helmsley era, and things never quite changed between them thus far. Furthermore, Hunter himself had no qualms working with Stephanie (Stephy Mac for him) because that young woman has the same intensity, drive and passion for the business; just like her father.

 

“What’s up, Stephy Mac?’

 

Said executive lifted her head from the file she was flipping through and glared at the man who stood in front her. He was wearing a black form-fitting T-shirt and pair of jeans with the black shoes. His shit eating grin completed the look as he tossed his bag carelessly onto the couch located in the corner.

 

“For the life of me, I have forgotten how many times I’d told you not to call me that.”

 

“Would you prefer Princess, instead?’

 

“Hunter...” Stephanie began with a warning tone, but stopped with a sigh as the older man regarded her with his puppy dog look; the look that had his eyes glittering like precious jewels in the light.

 

 _You got no idea what you do to me, Hunt_.

 

“So what’s up?” Hunter asked as he relaxed into the chair he hopped on, stretching his muscles as he leaned back.

 

“Tonight’s the last Raw you will be working on.”

 

“What?!”

 

“Yes, I am gonna change you to Smackdown. You’re gonna work with Jeff Hardy”, Stephanie said as she began to relay her plans. Hunter listened intently and thought the idea was amazing, because he’d always thought Jeff was a very talented young man and that following Steph’s line of argument, its not hard to see why their feud will serve to propel the his career further.

 

“Okay, that’s set. Looks like I had to change my Friday routine.”

 

“ Aww, don’t worry much, Hunt. You’ve got a miserable routine so a change won’t be so sad”, Stephanie retorted.

 

 To which she got a 39 year old man sticking his tongue out at her in response.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 And now as Hunter prowled through the hallways, he realized that he overlooked the fact that his own _personal_ problem will be lurking in form of trench coat, hat and all black but not bad in fashion that will haunt him on every Friday night.

 

_It’s okay. Just keep a poker face and pretend to be a hard ass. That’s what Cameron Diaz did anyway._

 

Hunter reached the locker room, and entered in. He closed the door behind him, leaned against the wooden frame, and sighed, closing his eyes _. Finally_.

 

“Of all the things you are, I didn’t know that you’re a master in hide’n’seek. Thought yer’ much braver than that”,.

 

_Shit!!_

 

Hunter’s eyes snapped open and they met the sparkling green of one Mark Callaway who was smirking at him, looking far too amused for his liking.

 

The goddamned Undertaker.

 

Hunter also realized that he was being pinned against the door, with Mark leaning towards him. The dark haired man had one arm leaning against the wall next to the door and the other lounging casually on his hip. The obvious height difference did not go unnoticed by Hunter.

 

It made him a little more than queasy.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”,

 

_Good one, Champ. Now he’s gonna eat you alive ‘cause of that blunder._

Mentally smacking himself on the head, Hunter waited for a sharp barb to ring in but was met by silence.

 

Cautious hazel eyes looked up, searching for Mark’s face, who was currently staring at him intently. It took more of few moments for him to learn that the other man was checking him out.

 

Hunter felt his cheeks suddenly getting warm and he could tell that he was blushing. If he’d think he didn’t make enough of ass out of himself earlier, he most certainly is now.

 

What would Chris Jericho say?

 

Oh yes. Ass-clown.

 

_Right._

 

“What do you want?” Hunter asked gruffly.

 

“You. Me. Naked. On bed, or maybe against that door.”

 

“Not happening”.

 

“I hate to put you on the floor, Hunt. I don’t want to hurt your beautiful skin”.

 

“You’re not putting me anywhere, okay?”

 

“You sure about that?”

 

“Yes”.

  

“How about in the shower?’

 

“If you got here to try to and get laid, well you’re not, so if you don’t have anything else to say then get the _fuck_ out”, Hunter gritted out as he glared at Mark, daring him to give a reaction.

 

What he got instead from Deadman was a wide smirk.

 

Mark leaned in closer, his breath caressing Hunter cheek like a light breeze. Unintentionally, the butterflies fluttered wildly in the pit of his stomach again as Hunter tried his level best not to squirm.

_Damn him!!_

 

“You see Hunter”, Mark began, his voice dropping to a low growl “Gettin’ laid is something I never had any problem with. I can have anyone I want, wherever and whenever I want.  But no, I didn’t come here to get laid; I have something else in mind. I just wanted to see and talk to you”. Mark sighed. He ran a hand through his hair; fingertips just stopping short to pull at the red bandana that was being tied around his head. Tugging it at lightly, he let out a puff of breath.

 

Hunter crossed his arms in front of his chest, and looked away. “There’s nothing to talk, Mark. For the record, I didn’t even want to see you at the first place”,

 

“I can’t see that being true. You talk as if you hate me”.

 

“Yes, I do hate you”

 

“Then you’re lying”

 

“How the hell do you know?”

 

Mark reached over the bag slung over the blonde’s shoulder and tugged it hard from him, ignoring Hunter’s cries of protest.  He unzipped it, rummaged through it and pulled out something that made Hunter’s eyes go wide.

 

A worn out blue shirt. It’s color was so faded it almost looked white but Mark recognized it the instant he pulled it out.

 

It was his shirt.

 

 He raised it to Hunter who avoided his gaze and asked “This doesn’t show me that you hate me”,.

 

Hunter  still  refused to give in. “It still doesn’t mean a damn thing”.

 

“But it does to me! It tells me that I still have a chance to make the wrongs right. An opportunity to mend the pieces. To try and bring us back together.  I know I am the one who threw it all away; I was being way too fucking practical but that didn’t it mean it didn’t hurt the same. It did. Lord knows I paid dearly for what I’d to give away”, Mark paused as he tried to keep his temper and emotions in control.  Being emotional and angry is not going to help him get his point across and work his way to get back Hunter.

 

For that one “practical” mistake, Mark spent a good five years of his life wallowing in misery. That’s because he loved Hunter more than anything in the world and to push him away is the hardest (not to mention) the most stupid thing he had ever done.

 

It was something that Stephanie pointed out to him in her fit of rage. 

 

 “You can’t mend the pieces, Mark. We’ve got nothing to work for. Its over for us”, Hunter said, as he too, struggled to contain his emotions. Mark’s words did more than just rekindling old memories; it reopened old wounds, made them fresh and now they are hurting him again.

 

 “I know where you’re trying to get at Mark. Like I said we don’t have anything anymore between us. Just move on”,

 

“Did you move on?”

 

Hunter’s eyes went wide as he was taken aback by the question. He doesn’t know how to answer the question without giving away the truth. His stubbornness is too overwhelming to be overcome with and he found himself stuck, literally between the locker room door and the imposing figure of Mark Callaway.

 

“Come on, Hunter. Tell me, look me in the eyes and tell me you’d moved on and I will walk away from you. Forever.”

 

Hunter’s gaze fell upon the shirt that Mark was holding. It was crumpled in his grip but it did remind of one fact. The single atonement of his existence. The proof of his misery and heartbreak.

 

That at times when he missed the Southerner a lot, he had to gone to bed wearing that shirt. The shirt cocooned him; just like Mark’s embrace does; as if to pretend that Mark’s really with there with him, that they never really broke up.

 

 _That we still love each other_.

 

Hunter felt his vision become blurry and he closed his eyes in vain attempt to stop the steady stream of tears that begin to flow down his cheeks.

 

Seeing the younger man cry silently, gave Mark the answer he needed. Sometimes, a person’s emotion tells a better story than words could ever do. There is a reason for that classic adage; a picture is worth thousand words.

 

He reached out, carefully, and enveloped the blond haired man in an embrace.  He winced softly when he thought he heard a whine of protest from the younger man but nonetheless led him to sit on the bench at the far corner.  He spoke softly as he entwined their fingers together; Hunter’s head buried in the crevice of his shoulder.

 

“I ain’t getting’ any younger, Hunt. I need a chance. One chance to prove myself to you. One is all I ask for. If I screw this up, ya’ can go away, begone.

 

“Please, Hunter. Let’s start all over again”,.

 

 “Will it work?” Hunter asked in a very soft whisper as he stared down at their joined hands. Despite the fact his heart wanted to let go of their painful past and just be together again, his head seem to be putting the brakes on such thoughts.

 

_What if things become worse than it used to be? What if our careers get in the way again?_

 

“I don’t know if it will or not. But I am ready to make it work. I’ve gone too long without you and I don’t even want to consider a life without you in it. Hell no”, Mark tightened his embrace around the younger blond as to emphasize his point.

 

Hunter, finally letting his heart to get better of his head, hugged Mark, sinking his head deep into the other man’s chest and sobbing quietly. He didn’t know what to speak. He didn’t know what to tell. He just hoped his tears and his embrace would make Mark understand how much Hunter missed him.

 

Hated him.

 

Loved him.

 

Pined for him.

 

And all this while living in denial that he loves him and was unable to move on for his own benefit.

 

He was ever glad he didn’t.

 

Perhaps this was fate.  Maybe this was their destiny. Regardless, Hunter didn’t care. Hunter felt calloused fingers nudging gently at his jaw; he tilted his head and as their lips connected again after such a long time, Hunter felt so safe. His eyes fluttered close at the feel of Mark’s lips and tongue teasing and coaxing his own. He clutched tight at the dark haired head, afraid to let the man go.

 

_Don’t ever go, baby. Don’t ever leave me again._

  

“So how bout I take you to Denny’s after the show?”

 

“You’re such cheapskate. You got back with your ex after 5 years and greasy food is all you offer me? Well, never mind, Denny’s fine. Considering the fact that even if you take me to a French restaurant, you can’t pronounce the names of the food properly even if I paid your skinny ass to, so I rather save the trouble and embarrassment”.

 

“Skinny, huh?’

 

 “Damn right”.

 

“I was never skinny, Hunt”.

 

Hunter smirked. “Well you ARE leggy”.

 

Mark smirked back at him; only a moment before he hoisted the grinning blond and tackled him to the floor.

 

A yelp, followed by giggles and Stephanie Mcmahon who was lounging by the door outside the locker room knew her job was done. She smiled, tilting her head heavenward, not really noticing a few tears had slipped past her guard.

 

Just because she never had her happy ending with Hunter, does not mean the man she loved with all her heart cannot have his own. After all that’s what real love is all about. To give that one single person you care, everything that’s worth just to see them smile.

 

To see them be happy.

 

She wiped her face with her hands, straightened herself out and walked away from the locker room, with the steady gait and style that is distinctly Stephanie McMahon, albeit a big smile on her face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**__ **

**__ **

**__ **

 


End file.
